


Written on his heart

by CGotAnAccount



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Keith's Diary, Keithtober 2018, M/M, Post Season 7, SHEITH - Freeform, the tiniest angst in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: Keith finds his old diary as he moves into the AtlasKeithtober day 26, Keith's Journal





	Written on his heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally nothing but the fluff I crave. So.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Settling into his room on the Atlas was about as exciting as Keith expected. He'd been surprised when Shiro had approached him as he was getting out of the hospital to show him his new quarters, right next door to Shiro's own, and to give him the official tour now that the giant spaceship was more or less sentient. He really couldn't help feeling relief at the thought of not having to cram into the communal hall with the blades -half of whom he swore didn't sleep- or spend time in the old Garrison barracks. Too many memories of trying to sleep to the snores of a dozen other cadets and someone trying to jerk off on the sly.

The room Shiro ushered him into with a proud flourish was bigger than his room had been in the castle, more like a studio apartment half partitioned off with the bed behind a half-wall and a small living area with kitchenette and bathroom off to the side.

Keith dropped his small box of belongings that his mom had grabbed mixed in with things the Garrison had confiscated and toed the whole thing over to the desk near the bed before eyeballing a door on the shared wall between his and Shiro's rooms, Keith jerked his thumb at it with a raised eyebrow aimed toward Shiro.

“Ah, yeah.” Shiro rubbed at the back of his head, “Apparently Atlas is more comfortable with you able to ah... 'save' me at a moment's notice if need be.” He gave a sheepish quirk of his mouth, “I can make sure that your side stays locked though.” Keith just smiled back at him.

“Shiro, we lived in the same sweaty cargo hold for months without a shower. I think I can share a doorway with you.”

“Right.” Shiro barked out a laugh, “I guess there's really no secrets left between us is there?”

“Sorry, Shirogane,” Keith grinned at him, “You're only the mysterious and dignified Captain for everyone else.”

Shiro smiled softly at the back of Keith's head as he crouched to rummage through his box of stuff before clearing his throat and straightening up.

“Aaanyway,” he dragged out, “I have to get to a meeting with Iverson but I'll be around for dinner. If you need anything give me a jingle.” he wiggled his datapad in the air before leaving Keith to his unpacking.

Keith just shook his head and continued humming softly to himself as he dug through things he mostly didn't even remember having or losing. There was of course his red leather jacket, which was now worryingly tight on the shoulders as he went to drag it on, and what Lance and Pidge refer to as his 'go-go' boots, Keith still didn't buy that as a compliment.

Next he tugged out some old framed flight records from the Garrison that Shiro had insisted he display as Keith had broken Shiro's own one by one, he set those aside to tease Shiro about later of course. There was a set of Shiro's old dog tags that he'd given Keith before the launch for safe keeping under those and Keith felt his throat tighten a little. They had been his one real regret when he had left the Garrison abruptly and he had spent many nights in the desert wiping away stubborn tears as he burned with the knowledge that his rash exit had cost him the one thing he had left of Shiro. Clenching them tightly in his fist and pressing his lips to them, Keith whispered a thanks to whoever decided not to throw away his things before slipping the chain over his head and tucking it against his chest to continue his task.

Several interesting rocks, a textbook, and some souvenirs he had picked up around the universe made their way to his shelves along with his blade uniform and a sketchpad he had started keeping on the journey home. The notebook at the very bottom of the box had Keith barking out a loud laugh and snatching it to his chest.

It was his old diary, still print locked on the front and apparently unmolested. Now he definitely owed whoever packed up his old Garrison items a beer or two. Sliding his thumb over the scanner he grinned as it lit up green and chirped open, revealing his own sloppy handwriting from what seemed like a lifetime ago. Scrambling up off the floor and onto the bed, he made himself comfortable for the secondhand embarrassment that comes with reading an old diary.

The first few entries were a little mundane, he had just gotten into the Garrison and Keith could feel his own misgivings bleeding through every word on the page. It was mostly a description of the base itself and a brief analysis of the people he had met, mostly their strengths and weaknesses, before signing off on a hesitant note.

 

_This place isn't terrible I guess. Shiro said that they'll let me in a simulator again after the first month, but that it won't be much actual fun for a while. He hasn't lied... yet. I guess I'll see if I'm still here when it gets fun._

 

Keith snorted a little at his own petulant hesitation and remembered Shiro once calling him an angry kitten when he was younger. At the time he had shot Shiro a sour look, but now he can look back and concede the point with a little more humor.

Flipping forward a little brought a some more substance in his daily musings and he stopped on one that was written a little more darkly than the entries before it.

 

_That fucking prick had it coming. If Iverson hadn't been there I'd have fed James his fucking teeth. Only here because of my parents my fucking ass. I can fly circles around everyone else here and they're too busy sniffing each other's asses to practice enough to even let us get past baby's first sim_ ~~_. If Shiro wasn't so stuck on me staying here I'd have packed my shit and-_ ~~ _...No, patience yields focus. I just. I wish everything came as easy as flying. I wish everyone were as easy as Shiro to get along with. I miss Pop._

 

Keith had to swallow hard on that one, nearly overwhelmed by the half terrified rage that only served to cover up a kid with a broken heart. He wished he could have gone back and given himself a hug, told himself that it was all going to be okay and that someday he'd have his mom back at least, and she definitely does tell him that he can fly circles around anyone. Rubbing the dust out of his eyes, Keith flips a good chunk forward, not quite looking to relive any more hormonal rage.

The next entry was almost worse, his eyebrows nearly touching his hair as he read.

 

_Shiro's training shirtless again. That man could pilot my ass anywhere he wants to. I'm pretty sure Griffin walked into the squat bar and clotheslined himself when Shiro started doing curls. It's gotta be the one thing we'll ever agree on. I'd almost think that Shiro's doing it on purpose, but he's way too much of a golden retriever type to realize there's a betting pool on when he makes someone faint during his reps. Fuck my life. I'm going to be jerking off to that for the next week and a half..._

 

Well, some things never changed, flushing bright red Keith stopped there and flipped forward an entry.

 

_Today he had on those spandex shorts he wears when he's going to hit the pool after his reps. Jesus Wept. Definitely hangs left. Emphasis on HANGS. I'm not even mad that I fell off the treadmill when he was stretching, nobody noticed with him in the room. And that man's quads, christ I just want him to crush my head between them. I'd pay him. I'd make him that awful mac and cheese he loves for the rest of the year. I would smother between those cheeks happily..._

 

Keith threw his head back howling, only slightly embarrassed at his own blatant thirst. The worst part about those earlier gym days watching Shiro had been having to go back to the new cadet dorms, not even separated into real roommates yet, and trying to discretely rub one out to the image of his mentor's bulging muscles without cutting himself on a forgotten sock later. Wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, Keith flipped forward a few months and settled back in with a grin.

 

_That fucker knows. Ever since we've been sparring seriously he's gone from his normal workout gear to that fucking stretchy-ass clingy shit. And it just. He just. He fucking knows what he's doing! He said it was so his opponent couldn't grab onto his clothes for an advantage. Hate to tell you Shiro, but I'm pretty sure I could get a good grip on your dick for all that you're covered now! ~~Note to self: Maybe attempt that, if he's pissed we can say it was tactical~~. Actually, just stick to losing and getting pressed down into that mat. God damn._

 

Keith is almost embarrassed at how thoroughly he's filled this notebook with mentions of nothing but Shiro's body.

Almost.

 

_Finally beat Shiro sparring! I'm pretty sure he kinda maybe let me win, but not sure enough that I'm not going to count it cause now he owes me a desert trip. Also, I'm forever burning the feeling of him between my thighs into my brain. RIP Keith, we can die happy knowing the exact ratio of leg spreadage to straddle that beast. Note to self: add more hamstring and butterfly stretches into routine. The second Griffin is out of this dorm I'm going to beat it until it files a restraining order against me._

 

With one last giggle Keith is about to flip the notebook shut to be shoved under his bed for when he needs a laugh before an entry near the back catches his eye.

 

_He's sick._

_He's sick and I didn't know. And this whole time he's been sick and I... and now he's alone and it's just me and I don't know how to be there for him and he's slowly dying? And I just. I can't lose him too. Not him. But he needs to fly like he needs to breathe and god do I get that. He's going to go because he was born to go and when he comes back I'll be here and maybe we can be a we and I can be there for him. He's sick but he's still Shiro and I love him._

 

Keith's heart thuds painfully in his chest. He knows there's only one entry after this. He knows that all the other things he had written between the launch and leaving the Garrison were letters that he'd carefully sealed away for him to open when he got back.

He shakily turns the page.

 

~~_pilot error. pilot error. pilot error. pilot error. pilot error. Pilot error. PILOT ERROR._ ~~

_No._

_I will find you._

 

Keith nearly chokes on the familiar grief welling up in his throat at the thought of those words emblazoned in red across every screen of the Garrison. The memory of those whispers that followed him in the hallways, the envious and cruel conversations about the Golden Boy being made of pyrite after all. He remembers the crunch of someone's cheekbone against his fists and the feeling of blood, never his, spattering up against his face as someone's nose fountained out under his furious pain. He remembers hands grabbing his arms as he's tugged off the prone and groaning pile of meat on the floor and the feral snarl that he brandished at everyone there.

He remembers whirling around and throwing one career ending punch at the man who was probably only trying to help when he told Keith to pull himself together, told him that Shiro was gone. And he remembers the blaring of alarms and the desert wind whipping through his hair as he leaves with nothing but a stolen hoverbike and his knife.

But that wasn't the end.

Breathing deeply like he'd been taught by the man he looked up to more than any other, Keith grounded himself in the present. He thinks of the way that Shiro had smiled at him softly after Sendak's body crashed into the sands and the same smile waiting at his bedside when he'd woken up from what he thought was certain death. His one regret as he hurdled toward the Earth was that he hadn't told Shiro again in a quieter moment that he loved him, that he was so much more than a brother, but now that didn't matter.

They were both alive and had another chance.

He heaved himself off the bed, snagging a pen and determinedly scribbling onto the last page before shutting and locking the diary with a deep sigh. It felt somehow both heavier and lighter than it did when he began to read.

Sliding the diary under his bed, Keith busied himself putting everything in order and finishing up his discharge paperwork on his tablet, as he waited for the knock on his door.

When the gentle knock finally came he padded over to the door and stepped forward to a startled Shiro.

“Oh hey, Keith.” Shiro began, “Are you ready for dinner?”

Keith grabbed both of his hands and stepped back inside, the door sliding shut behind them. He trailed one hand up to Shiro's rapidly heating cheeks before cupping Shiro's jaw and stroking his thumb across the edge of his scar.

“Shiro,” he breathed into the quiet, “I think it's about time we sat down to talk.”

Shiro's swallow was an audible click as he lifted one trembling hand up to Keith's own face and brought their foreheads down to meet.

“Yeah...” Shiro breathed into their shared space, “I think it's been a long time coming.” His eyes were swimming as Keith tugged him down into a gentle brush of their lips and down to sit onto the mattress, right on top of the final lines Keith had written into the back of the diary.

 

_And they lived happily ever after._

 

 

 

 


End file.
